Pink Flamingo
by BitterAndBlue
Summary: Crossover NCIS/SPN No slash. Rated M for mature themes and language."This time was different though; he pushed the knife deeper, cut harder, longer than he had before. He cut his loss and his longing into her skin."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Okay here's the lowdown. Kick ass tortrue involved. The story is being co-written by me(TofuPixie) and my friend(Samm Eugene). We mostly take turns writting chapters, but sometimes we don't. Make sure to check the A/N to see who's chapter it is.

All my love,

Noelani

**Chapter One-Snapped**

Her breath came in a terrified staccato, her heartbeat a drum of fear. When she opened her eyes it took her a moment to remember where she was. Not that she knew exactly where she was. The small dark space could barely be called a room. It was cramped and smelled of damp earth. The only lighting was a small sconce on one of the walls and a small fire barely burning just out of her view. She herself wasn't in much better shape; Naked and strapped to a table. She shivered in the cold. Her thin body was laced with cuts and bruises, her pale skin marbled with small rivers of dried blood. One week she had been there, give or take a few days. One week with the bare minimum of food and water, just enough to keep her alive. One week in hell. One week without any true human contact. Sure, there was him, but he could never qualify as human. Maybe once, but he did no longer. He was a monster, a captor, and a torturer. He took pleasure in her pain and in finding new ways to cause it. He used to be sane, maybe, used to be human but something had snapped. Something happened that caused him to lose all control. Something caused him to become a monster. What could drive a man to such extremes? It was all too much. The knife, being injected with hallucinogens, electrocution, whips, rape, and the list goes on. She felt like she was losing her mind. Sometimes it doesn't take too much to break a person. She's strong, the question is how strong? She had been there long enough to learn the rules, and they were simple; screaming achieves nothing, and begging pisses him off. She knew she had to keep fighting, so she fought for him. She fought because she knew he would be looking, the man with the green eyes. The man with brown hair and a friendly smile. The man with a tender embrace and a passionate kiss. She still remembered the last thing she said to him…

-Flashback-

They were walking hand and hand through the meadow, the late afternoon sun streaming through the trees setting the whole clearing aglow. It was perfect a memory to keep forever. The sunlight caught his hair causing it to shimmer a prismatic bronze. They talked awhile of times gone by and people long gone. They talked about the past, the present, and the future. Hand in hand they walked through the meadow, smiling in the silence. This was how love was supposed to feel, safe and comfortable. For her, love was home, and he was her shelter. She brought their entwined hands up to her lips, kissing his and saying, "I love the way my hand fits in yours, it makes me feel protected and loved." His smiled widened as he pulled her in for a light kiss on the lips. "And I the way yours fits in mine, it makes me feel complete." They continued walking for awhile before finding a place to sit and look at the clouds. After a short time he snuck his hands over and began to tickle her. She laughed uncontrollably, playfully batting his hands away before jumping up and running off shouting, "You can't catch me! I'm the gingerbread man!" He paused to admire her, the way her wheaten hair flew through the air gilded golden in the sun. The perfect curve of her full lips, the rosy glow of her cheeks. He still had trouble believing such a magnificent creature was his.

"Oh I'm gonna get you little girl!" He called out through his laughter. All of a sudden a man stepped out of the lengthening shadows. Silently he crept towards the woman, a wooden bat gripped tightly in his hands. Now it was a battle between her lover and the stranger, who would reach her first?

"Lizzy!" cried the lover, "Look out!" Too late, she felt a sharp impact with her skull before the whole world fell away. Before her limp body had the chance to hit the ground he was there, face to face with her attacker. The bat was swung, he dodged it. He pulled back his arm and let it fly, making contact with the man's jaw. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled grabbing his face. In the process the bat fell to the ground. The lover took a step back before launching himself at the man, pinning him to the ground. Many blows were exchanged, but in the end the attacker was able to grab the bat and disable him with a glancing blow to the head, leaving him disorientated but conscience. While he was attempting to rise, the mysterious man had vanished, taking with him the beautiful goddess leaving her lover alone and in a panic.

-End Flashback-

The sound of the door pulled her from her reverie. He was back. He looked at her with cold steel eyes, the laugh lines etched into his skin showed no hint of laughter now. That one reminder of his humanity seemed to mock her, could he make her like him?

"Well my dear, what should we do today?" he asked her in a mildly seductive tone.

"Fuck you Winchester!" She spat as strongly as she could muster.

"Not now sweetheart, I'm saving that for later." She strained against the restraints causing several wounds to open, she hissed in pain. "Ah ah ah. None of that now, you'll hurt yourself." He cooed gently. "Besides how am I supposed to give you this water when you're thrashing around like a half-dead fish?"

"Water?" she croaked.

"Yes water. Care for a shower?" he asked pouring the freezing water over her shivering frame, soaking her to the bone. "Enjoying yourself dear? I know I am. You're the highlight of my day." He was a sick man, everyday without fail he came to cause her pain. He would push her to the brink, but never let her fall. "So now, what should we do today?"

"Sleep?" She replied her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Now now behave little girl, you know there's always consequences."

"Do what you want bastard, they're looking for me right now. And when they find me, find us…well let's just say I'm not sure you'll make it through in one piece."

"Didn't I tell you to behave!" he roared grabbing an iron rod from where it had been heating in the fire. "I don't like it when you talk to me like that! You will show me some respect! And as for your friends, they're happy that you're gone. If they were really looking for you, don't you think they would have found you by now? I mean, really! It's been ten days already, ten days and they've got nothing. Nothing! Do you realize what this means? It means you get to stay with me forever. You and me forever dearest, how does that sound? Paradise, that's how it sounds to me. We're meant to be together Lizzy. Did you forget about me? Did you forget that summer eleven years ago? That's how long it's been, eleven years. And the whole time spent craving your touch. They call me a womanizer Lizzy! They think I just go around chasing skirt! It's not like that! I've spent this whole time missing you, trying to fill the gap. I guarantee you that they will stop looking for you. Eventually they always do. And when that happens you might finally realize that I'm the only one who truly cares…" He forced her mouth open, holding the super-heated metal just above her lips. "This is what happens when children talk back." He said pressing the tip to her tongue. The air was alive with the sounds of sizzling burning flesh. A heavy scent invaded her nose. Had she had been able to scream, they probably would have heard her in China. She tried desperately to free herself, but it was no use, she was bound too tightly to the table. She instead tried to plead with the man through her eyes. The tears flowed freely now, she had no control. Her whole body was consumed with the pain he was creating. He removed the item from her mouth placing it back in the coals. "Enjoy that honey bear?.... Hmm, I forgot to tell you, you won't be able to answer my questions for the next couple of days. Sure you can scream, but you know how much good that'll do ya." He pulled a thick rubber tube and a hypodermic needle from his bag on the table. "Let the games begin." Making a tourniquet with the tube on her upper arm, he then lightly smacked the skin in the crease of her elbow sticking the needle in her now swollen vein. "Ketamine's a bitch, huh? " He asked smirking. "Well no matter, it makes things all the more fun for me." Again reaching in the bag he retrieved a menacing blade. Drawing it across her skin, she shivered at the feel of the cold metal against her skin. Virgin skin, pale and untouched by the angry red marks that covered a majority of her body. This time was different though; he pushed the knife deeper, cut harder, longer than he had before. He cut his loss and his longing into her skin. Goose fleshed thighs giving way to the pressure of the sharp blade, spilling forth the wine from her veins. All the while she screamed, tortured by the pain and the hallucinations. He went a little too far that night, vivid colors faded into darkness and she retreated into her mind.

She awoke to find herself covered in the shroud night. She longed for the fresh air and stars of home. She imagined she was back home lying on her back in the grass, staring first into his green eyes and then at the masses of stars in the beautiful blanket of sky, pinpricks of light in an elegant indigo quilt. A light breeze would rustle the trees leaves and he would pull her closer to him, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. That's where they would stay for hours, lying in each other's arms marveling at the beauty of the night sky.


	2. Chapter 2

Le warning; Language, Description of slightly graphic torture, Mentions of rape. This chapter is not entirely necessary to understand the story, although it helps to establish a major character. You may skip it if you want to. Lance is an OC, nothing else belongs to us, just borrowing, m'kay?

_**4 weeks prior**_

I listen to the sounds around me. Or rather, lack thereof. The streets of D.C. are surprisingly quiet for what I like to call "Party hour", even for very early on a Friday morning. Maybe it's just because I'm walking down a back alley…. Whatever. Still quiet.

I pass by the bars and pubs I'm too young to get into, searching for nothing in particular. Guess I'm what you would call "lost in thought". I've been running through the day as I wander the dark empty streets, my mind focusing solely on my superior's words as he dismissed me from his office.

"_I'm very disappointed in you Lance. I had such high hopes in you, son_."

I've been placed on temporary leave to 'reflect on my actions'. I know it was stupid, but what's a fresh recruit to do when you've got Marines of higher rank trying to push you around? Maybe I did throw the first punch, and maybe I did kick the shit outta Wilson, but it's not like I wasn't provoked or anything. I mean, really.

Okay, this whole silence thing is really starting to freak me out. Marines are tough, what do I have to worry about? I've been through most of my training, I can handle anything. But reassuring myself of my ass-kicking talent doesn't seem to be easing the fear that's been creeping through my bones for several minutes now….

My ears pick up the sound of a garbage can skidding across the asphalt and I twist around, my fists flying to a defensive position. I scan the surrounding area; looking for anything I could call a threat. The trash can moves again and I glare at it, waiting for some drunkard to coming stumbling out from behind it or something stupid like that. I'm not wrong, as it turns out. The can falls on its side and a black cat comes tumbling out, bolting across the alley and over a fence.

I hear a laugh escape my own lips and I lower my fists, continuing to meander through the streets, my short rush of adrenalin already wearing off. It's barely two minutes later that I feel a blinding pain in my back. I whip around to find a baseball bat flying towards my face. The blood flow is freely pouring over my eyes as I welcome the darkness that is swiftly gripping my mind.

* * *

The light is blinding, the smell unbearable, the silence deafening. I awake to find myself lying on a cement floor. It was freezing. A man with piercing green eyes stares down at me and with a husky voice he tells me to wake my ass up before he has to do it himself.

My vision is a bit blurry_, yeah, that's what happens when you get your freakin' head beat in with a bat!_ But I can see him reaching behind him for something. It looks like a power tool of some kind, but in my unstable state, I have no clue what it is. He goes over to a wall and presumably plugs the device in. I try to sit myself up, knowing that I should comply as much as possible. The pain in my skull and shoulder blades is enough to keep me down, however.

The stranger makes his way back to me. He had seen my struggle but apparently didn't take it as a good enough effort. He grabs my hair and gives it a rough pull as he brings the tool closer to my face. I can now see that it is a nail gun. My eyes widen slightly, giving away only that I recognize the situation. The man shoves me against the wall and presses the weapon to my right shoulder.

"We're gonna have a little fun, okay? Hope you're as tough as Marines are supposed to be, kid." He fires the nail gun three times in quick succession into my shoulder, a smile lighting his face at my attempt to muffle the scream that tears its way through my body and soul. The grin that graces my captors features is that of a man gone insane. I focus entirely on the man's image to distract myself from the pain emanating from my right side.

Green irises with the hardened look of a man leading a troubled life, a worry creased forehead, a soft tipped nose, the pale, almost olive colored skin, they all work together with a flawless set of teeth to form what most people would consider to be a very attractive face. The manic showing of teeth detracts from his looks and I find myself wondering just how insane this man really is.

Another slash of pain shakes through my body as the man fires another four nails through my left leg. I couldn't hold back the scream that erupted in my throat. I fall silent as I watch his fist come flying towards my chest, my eyes already clouding once more. The blow is swift, but hard. The man was trained to fight. It hits right on my sternum. I allow the sweet relief of unconsciousness to wash over me, but before I conk out, I hear him toss a sentence over his shoulder at me while he walks towards a metal door hidden away in the corner.

"I'll be back later to have some more fun, so don't you go dying on me, okay?"

* * *

I nearly yell in frustration when I awake to find myself still in the dark little basement. I had been hoping that everything was just a terrible nightmare, that I'd wake up back at the base in my bunk. But no, my hopes were crushed by the annoying little –drip drip-- of the cracked pipe above me and the flickering light, and let's not forget the aches I'm feeling in practically my entire body. _Well fuck. Th__is just sucks all around, doesn't it?_

My inner narrative is halted, and my ears prick. I can hear footsteps. Coming down stairs. Towards me. _Shit, shit, shit…. It's him!_ I know, I'm a Marine. I can handle anything this yahoo throws at me, right? Wrong! I'm fucking nineteen! I only finished my training course last month! Okay. I can do this. Optimistic. Here we go.

The door swings open in a long arc. I watch as my captor strides in casually, a bottle in one hand and a razor in the other. He marches right up to me, dropping to one knee and opening the water. He tries to tilt it into my mouth, and I realize for the first time that I am not bound at all.

_Seriously. Am I that stupid? Is HE that stupid?_ Musta been too focused on my pain._ God, I'm such a freakin' __wuss_. I used my injured arm to smack his hand away from my mouth while my good arm reaches for the razor. Slowed by the limited use of my right arm and the haze that still covers my brain, he easily defeats my efforts. He twirls the razor in a neat little circle and brings it down on my hand, grinding it into the floor. I try to let out another shout, but I find my throat dry and my voice hoarse.

"I came to give you some water, jackass. You know, to keep you alive?" he shoves the top of the bottle in my mouth and forces my head back. Not usually one to refuse a drink, I manage to swallow it and am almost grateful for the small reprieve. Until the meaning of his words hit me, of course. He expects me to last awhile, longer than three days anyway, if he wanted to keep me alive. That means more 'fun time' for him, and more pain for me.

I speak to him for the first time when I'm feeling particularly uppity. I can't even begin to fathom why I haven't spoken to this man at all, not even to question him. I guess that in the back of my mind, I decided that I was going to act like an adolescent and just ignore him, as if not talking to him would make him leave me alone. _What, am I in sixth grade now? Really?_

"D'you think I could get somethin' to eat too? This place has horrible service." This remark earned me a swift knock in the jaw and a sandpaper sensation in my throat.

"I don't take kindly to smart ass remarks. Keep your trap shut," He growled at me. Ripping the razor from my bleeding hand, he twirls it again, and my face is showered with drops of my own blood. He runs the blades face against his tongue, taking in the crimson liquid. I see him glance at me from the corner of his eye and that insane grin of his appears again. "I'm surprised. You taste so much better than the girl I played with last month. Want to try?" He holds the blade close to my face, waiting for my response.

"Freak." I spat the word at him, and waited for the inevitable anger.

The man chuckled, "Yeah, I guess I am. Been called worse, I s'pose." He stores the razor in his back pocket and stands. "I'll be seeing you tomorrow. We'll have to make up for the lack of fun we had today then. Goodnight!" The door slams shut and the dingy little light bulb switches off.

* * *

I've been sitting here in the dark for hours. I always thought I was damn strong mentally, but leave a man alone in silence and darkness for a couple of days and things start to happen. Maybe it's just the minor blood loss? I mean, two days? That's not nearly enough to drive a man insane, is it? So why do I keep hearing voices? They're trying to rip what little hope I had to begin with from under me. Telling me that no one is looking for me, no one cares. Of course, I know better than to listen to them, I've seen the movies... but....

The door creaks open once more. I open my eyes, having kept them closed in the blackness of the room. Unsurprisingly, my vision is blurred even more than before, I couldn't even tell if my captor had walked in the room or not.

I felt myself being lifted from my position on the floor, all the fight had left my body already and I allow myself to be carried without a struggle. The table that I'm being laid upon is ice cold on my apparently bare back._ I can't believe how little I've paid attention! Two days to realize I was wearing only my boxers? What the hell?! _This man certainly picked the perfect victim. Silent, struggle-free, and ignorant. Great.

He starts tying my hands over my head, and my feet are bound in a similar fashion. I make no sounds as he restrains me. Trying to focus my eyes, I see a big blue blur moving at a fast pace around me. It isn't long before I feet a new pain assaulting my senses. It feels like my limbs are being pulled from my sockets, and it's only a short time later that I realize that that's exactly what might be happening. A little cliché, yeah, but entirely possible. The ropes were being retracted onto a large spool by a crank, which was obviously being turned vigorously if the creaking metal and grunts were of any indication.

The pain is enough to overwhelm all my other senses as it increases, the muscles tearing. I had been trying not to scream, I'd already been such a good prisoner I thought I should be at least a little defiant in my silence, but eventually my shoulder popped out of place, and the floodgates opened. I can't keep myself from releasing a continuous scream, pausing only long enough to shout expletives and take a breath of air before starting up again. In the background I can hear my enemy's insane laughter.

_He's enjoying this. That son of a bitch!_

The torture stops soon after, and he leaves me panting on the table, saying that he'd return once more the next day. It was an hour after I had been left alone that I start to sob, not even trying to hold back my fear any longer.

* * *

_Three days. Three fucking days this freak has had me in his 'care'_. I figure that if I haven't been rescued yet, it's up to me to save my own ass. I'd worked throughout the night to free my hands of the ropes, and then worked most of the morning to free my feet. Or, at least I assumed it was afternoon by now.... I've been told that messing with a captives sense of time was one of the key methods to breaking a man's' mind. It's working.

After I released myself from my ropes, I make the attempt to stand from the table. This failed miserably; I can't even sit up properly. Trying resulted in landing on the floor in a painful crash. Worst thing I coulda done at the time. My injuries ache and I moan in pain.

And that was how he found me, two hours later. Lying on the floor in a sad heap of shivering flesh. _Pathetic._ He grabs me by the armpits and hoists me up. He lifts my chin. _There's that grin again..._ The next thing I know, I'm staring at his back as he carries me to another room. It's the same one that I first awoke in. The same drab wall, hard and cold concrete, barely working light bulb, _"the torture r__oom" _as I've oh-so-creatively named it. _This room was obviously built for this kind of thing._

He tosses me off the side of his shoulder, and I'm surprised to land on a bit sooner than I expected, as well as on a softer surface. I land face down, the smell of laundry detergent filling my nostrils and the feel of cotton pushing gently against my eyes and mouth.

_Is this a bed? What the hell is going on here?_

"We're going to have a different kind of fun today. Hope you don't mind being the woman" My neck whips around to see his feral grin, and the impact of his implications hit me immediately. Before I can move my broken body to do anything, he grabs my wrists and ties them to the bedposts. He goes for my feet, and a sudden burst of adrenalin hits. Guess where I aim my kick?

"Fuck!! You're gonna regret that!" He's hunched over, nearly on his knees, grabbing at his now incredibly sore lower region.

"S-s-serves you r-right, you b-b-bastard! Stay the hell away from m-me!" I try to glare at him, but my battered and bruised face isn't quite up for anything more than the uncontrollable grimaces of pain. It only takes a minute for my tormentor to regain his breathe, and soon he's tackling my legs again, this time he's met with barely any resistance as my energy sinks again.

My body is bound in a similar way to yesterdays' session-o'-fun, and I'm barely conscious as it is. I fear what's coming next, everything that he's done to me thus far only pales in comparison. My eyes are wide with terror, watching him as he strips his clothes off.

_He has to be ex-military or something, with muscles like those! _Well that's just great. I'm about to get.... topped... by a man, and all I can do is stare at his muscles? I'm so screwed. _No! Wrong word! Shit! Umm... messed up? Yeah that work__s._

My inner monologue is interrupted as I find my oxygen cut off, a probing tongue forcing its way into my mouth. I'm trying to scream, but it's only a muffled groan. There are hands tracing down my body, trying to find all the right places. The next thing I know, the sound of tearing fabric reaches my ears, and the man sits up to show me my boxers, just before he tosses them as far across the room as he can.

* * *

I'm still awake. It's been hours since.... I'm still tied to the bed, shivering helplessly in a small pool blood, among other things. My mental state is swiftly disintegrating to nothing. Even the smallest glimmer of hope has left me, I know I'll die here in this gloomy little room, a victim of only God knows what.

All too soon, the creak of the door catches my attention, and I flinch away from the sight of _him_ standing against the frame, a playful smile dancing across his features. He pushes off the frame and saunters ever so slowly over to my shaking body. I'm trying my damned hardest to back into the corner, to get away from him, but the ropes are tearing at my wrists and ankles.

He chuckles at the sight, and brings another bottle of water to my lips. I drink greedily for a moment or so, forgetting in the second of hydration my fear, but soon he is tearing it from my lips, whispering in my ear.

"Easy there, Lancie-dear. Haven't finished with you yet. Wouldn't want you to _overdose_, now would we?" _Wait, what? What did he just __say? Overdose? That water is drugged?! Shit. Shit. SHIT. Is that why I was hearing voices the other day? Was it the effect of the drugs? Oh, man, I'm SO fucked!_

My thoughts continue in a downward spiral, I'm visibly rattled by this new revelation. I hear that torturous chuckle once more. The shivers soon turn to tremors, and then convulsions. My heart is thumping like a bass drum, the voices taking shape as people.

"Mother fucker! So you go and O.D. anyway? Damnit. Too soon, man! Now I need to find another playmate..." and he's gone from my sight. The door slams shut.

The seizures are getting worse. I know enough about drugs to realize that I'm overdosing. Cursing the bastard that just left me here, all I can really do is close my eyes against the pain of the convulsions. PCP, it has to be...

I can feel myself fading, the darkness consuming my thoughts. Briefly, I wonder about my family. Father had abandoned me when I refused the family business in favor of the Marine Corps, taking Mother with him. Jessica, my sister stayed by my side in spirit, exchanging letters with me from her university in Texas. I had yet to make friends in the unit, having only just been transferred to the D.C. Area.

This man picked his victim well. Hardly anyone to even miss me, let alone search for me.

Well fuck. What a great way to go, huh?

What little I can still see is fading away into nothingness slowly. My breathing is getting shallower by the second.

The last thing that passes my mind is a curiosity even to me.

_What made that man do something like this?_

* * *

So that wraps up chapter 2 at 3211 words! Hey, I'm Samm, and I'll be the second of the two writers with you on this grand roller coaster of NCIS/SPN goodness.

Now, the 4 weeks prior thing means 4 weeks before the events of the first chapter, just in case you're confused, and all chapters from hence forth shall be in order from this one, unless otherwise stated, m'kay?

Next up! NCIS makes their way onto the scene :3

xoxo

Samm


	3. Chapter 3

The bullpen was relatively quiet for it being a Tuesday morning. Neither the team leader, nor their profiler had arrived yet; something for which the Senior Field Agent was happy for. Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was enjoying some alone time with his girlfriend in the office, chatting with one another about what their day was likely to entail.

The soft _ding_ of the elevator arriving filled the air, and Tony could see a short brunette exit and make her way to her desk. Kate placed her purse on the floor next to her computer and sat down, fixing her gaze on the young woman across from her. Just as she was about to interrupt her partner, a flash of silver and the sound of papers hitting a desk stopped her.

"DiNozzo, dead Marine. Grab your gear." Gibbs said, tossing another file and narrowly missing the tall blond perched on the corner of Tony's' desk.

"Sorry, looks like I gotta go. Dinner later?" She flashed a smile at his words, a smile that could be rivaled only by one; Tony.

"Gotcha. 8o'Clock at my place?"

"That'd be great," He replied. "You cooking?" a hint of mischief flashed in those emerald orbs of his.

"No problem, Hun." She said softly before kissing him gently on the lips. He watched her walk to the elevator and get in, waving one last time as the metal doors closed and it took her away.

"NOW DiNozzo!" came the gruff shout of Special Agent Gibbs, his patience already wearing thin.

Walking out to the car, Kate saw this as the chance to do the prying for once instead of the other way around, and she struck up a conversation.

"So is she you're newest play toy, DiNozzo? Dating in the workplace is ill advised you know. Think it's a rule too. " Her eyebrows raised, her tone, snide.

Tony slowed his pace a little, pausing to think for moment whether he should answer at all, and then if he should joke about it or not. "Play toy? Lizzy? No way. We have a connection, it goes deeper than that."

"Deeper? How so? I wasn't even aware that you could connect with a woman on an emotional level." Kate actually was a bit shocked. Even as a profiler, and a pretty damn good one at that, she found it hard to gauge whether her partner was telling the truth or not. He seemed sincere enough, but if there was one thing Caitlin Todd had learned from this job, it was that Tony could be an excellent actor when he wanted to be.

"Oh is that the best insult you could come up with? I can totally connect when I want to. But Lizzy... She's something different. Real special, ya know?" A warm smile graced his features. Kate was so focused on trying to read the true meaning behind that smile, she found herself walking right into an equipment carrying McGee.

"Probie! There you are! We were going to leave without you, you know." All seriousness forgotten, Tony strode past the mess of forensic gear and paperwork covering the asphalt and leapt into the shotgun position of the company car.

"I'm sorry Tim, really. I wasn't watching where I was going." Kate hurried to gather all the scattered items while McGee apologized profusely for also not watching where he was headed. A car horn sounded behind them; Gibbs was waiting. Kate had seen the mood their leader was in and had no doubt that if she and McGee had collided elsewhere, Gibbs would have driven off and left them behind.

"We better hurry. I don't think us being in front of the car is going to slow him down any once he gets going..."

Some number of minutes later and Kate and McGee were in the backseat, holding on for dear life while Tony had hold of the dashboard as Gibbs raced toward their destination. A typical 30-minute drive that lasted only about fifteen ended in an abrupt halt near some warehouses. Gibbs was out of the car and ten feet away before the rest of the team even had their seat belts off.

Private Lance Dougray was laying prostrate, his limbs flung out at odd angles, his dog tags resting neatly in the hollow of his neck. Gibbs stared wearily at the young man as his team took up their usual positions. The boy couldn't have been older than nineteen, fresh out of training by the looks of it. Tilting his head up to observe his team in action, Gibbs' ice blue eyes rolled over the photographing Kate, then McGee in the process of bagging and tagging, and they landed on Tony, who was sketching the scene. His gaze remained on the Senior Field Agent for a moment; a sinking feeling all too familiar formed in his gut. For once, Gibbs didn't quite know what it was telling him. _I'll just keep an eye on him, see if anything happens…_

Feeling somebody watching him, Tony spun around. His eyes locked with Gibbs' for a moment and Tony's expression turned questioning.

"Watch what you're doing, DiNozzo. You're about to step on some evidence." The man moved to hover over McGee, covering up his seemingly misplaced concern with his usual overbearing aggression.

Kate continued to snap pictures, taking in the massacre that was once a young man. He was stripped naked and arranged in a modest position. There were small incisions in certain areas of his body, some of which had become infected. The boy was covered in nasty bruises and a few bones were visible through the thin layer of skin that canvassed him. The most disturbing thing to Kate, though, was possibly the large gaping hole in the Privates' chest, where his heart used to reside.

Doctor Donald "Ducky" Mallard arrived on scene with his assistant, Jimmy Palmer, half an hour later. The two men made their way swiftly to the sanctioned off area to attend to the victim, greeting the team as they went.

"TOD, Duck?" Gibbs appeared behind the M.E.'s shoulder. He would have scared the elder man if the good Dr. had not been so used to it by now.

"Now, Jethro, couldn't you at least wait until I have my equipment out? I mean, really—oh dear." Ducky's eyes fell upon the open chest cavity before him, "You poor lad. This must have been a painful beating you took."

"Ducky?" Gibbs prodded the man gently to remind him of the job at hand. His short fuse was even shorter today, and it seemed to Gibbs that everyone was irritating him on purpose. Granted, he almost allowed himself a smile at seeing Lizzy this morning, but almost was the key word here. Ever since he woke up this morning, passed out under his boat with a stiff back, He'd just had a bad feeling about today. The pang of unease he'd had earlier only intensified his nasty mood. Gibbs was on full alert for anything that seemed off, subconsciously trying to rush everyone through the day and just get it over with.

"Give me a moment, Jethro. We can't all be as fast as you command simply because you're you. There really isn't much I can tell you before I've had a chance to get him back to my lab and examine him. I will say, the body was obviously moved. Theres hardly any blood here at all. The boy died elsewhere." Ducky stood from his crouching position near the body and motioned for Jimmy to prepare the cadaver for transport.

"Boss, we done here? Probie's bagged everything in sight, Kate's got all the photos we need, and my sketch has been done for awhile now. Think we could head back to the office now?" Tony was hesitant and slow in his request, fully expecting to be shot down. His surprise was evident on his face when Gibbs turned to look him straight in the eye and said:

"Sure DiNozzo. We've got everything we can from here. Background checks and security footage it is."

Tony grinned at his semi-win (Because how can any outcome involving paperwork, Internet searches, and mind numbing security tapes ever be considered a full win?) and made his way to the car, hoping to get shotgun again.

A glimmer of light caught his attention, and he paused in his course, mid step, to look over at the street. A black car was taking the curve as slow as it could, the driver apparently trying to get a good look at what the police cars were surrounding. Based on his knowledge of cars, Tony could safely say that it was a 1960's car. _Looks like…..a…. Chevy_ _I think._

The driver must have spotted Tony staring, for he stuck a hand out the window and waved before speeding out of sight. Tony continued to gaze after it for a moment, but his attention was diverted as a streak of brown flew by him and into the passenger seat of the car.

"Aw Kate, come on!" he grinned and shook his head as he climbed in back with McGee; another long day at the office in store for him and his teammates.

* * *

"Mr. Palmer, would you be so kind as to take those samples up to Abigail please?" Ducky turned to his assistant and waited for the foreseeable answer.

"Of course, Dr. Mallard. Right away." He hurried through the doors of Autopsy towards the elevator, just as Gibbs stepped in. The senior agent meandered his way to Ducky's side, calmly taking in the gruesome sight still atop the table. The missing center of the marines' chest had an interesting visual effect on the Y incision that had already been sewn shut.

"Ah, Jethro, right on time as usual." Ducky placed his tools on the medical tray on his right side and turned to face his old friend and colleague, giving him a once over. "Long day already?"

A light chuckle, "Yeah, Duck." He ran a hand through his hair and scratching at the back of his head, "What've you got for me?"

Ducky took in a deep breath and sighed, "It's not pretty. Private Dougray was tortured for a period of several days, as deduced by the bruising in various places. These puncture wounds here and here," He points to the right shoulder and left leg, "were the first of the major injuries; whatever was used to slice through his limbs remained there until after his death, when they were removed with a knife. I've sent the molds up to Abigail to have them examined. Next came this cut through the left palm, it's a clean cut. Through and through."

It didn't take long for Gibbs to stop paying attention. He'd heard it all before. Sick bastards like Lance's killer don't vary too much between them. He barely heard Ducky continue to ramble through the list of injuries, keeping his gaze locked on the absent portion of the Marines chest. Ducky's speech lowered in volume slightly and his tone took a slight prickly curve to it.

Gibbs snapped to attention, "What did you just say, Duck?"

Ducky's eyebrows furrowed in irritation and his eyes narrowed a little, "Jethro, I said the boy was raped. Quite violently. Again, the samples are with Abby. The torment this young man must have endured... Only nineteen!"

Gibbs placed a hand on his old friends' shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "We'll catch this bastard, Ducky."

"I certainly hope so, Jethro."

* * *

So here's chapter 3 at 1960 words :) I hope I did all right!

Till next time,

xoxo

Samm


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So, I know I've been really lazy with the updating, but be warned I will never take the blame upon myself. This time I blame it on traveling the world ;) Anywhoserwhatsits I know I need to et my lazy ass into gear and freaking write something! But I also realized that the Chapter 4 teaser I put up wasn't the right one! o.O So I put up the real one! :D Now I am working on chapter four but just incase you need a little someting more than this to tide you over, if you review I'll send you a tasty little bit of my freewriting. It's a little glimpse inside our killer's head and don't say I didn't warn you. It's a bit twisted, but hey, who can blame me? Two in the morning and a bag of M&M's = horrible things ;) Well enjoy and I hope to have that chapter up for you soon!**

**XOXO Noelani**

**P.S. This teaser was written by the beautiful and incredibly talented SammEugene :D**

Sam jolted awake in the passenger seat, his ears aching and his mind a blurred haze. He glared at his brother beside him, watching in irritation as he carried on.

"No mercy for the bad if they want it, no mercy if they plead, no mercy for the bad if they need it, no mercy from me!" Dean sang with the blaring radio. His fingers thrummed on the steering wheel, and his head moved in time with the beat. Sam moved his seat to the upright position and peered out the window; seeing that they were in the mountains. _The Appalachians _rang a voice in the back of Sam's still-drowsy mind. Sam made a grab for the volume knob on the radio and successfully lowered the volume. Dean's indignant look made a short appearance before turning into a big toothy grin.

"Sammy! You're up! Have any good dreams?" His eyes lit up as the implications left his lips.

"Well you're in a good mood," Sam grumbled.


End file.
